A Costume Change
by MorningsofGold
Summary: After a lackluster prom night, Sarah makes a wish and is drawn into a game of wits with the king that comes calling. Little does Jareth know, Sarah's got some questions she wants answered. JarethxSarah, oneshot. Smitten!Jareth and unnecessary touching in the name of spellwork.


"I told you I don't want to dance," Sarah growled, peeling herself out of the arms of a sweaty senior boy and pushing her way off the dance floor. She ducked out of the brightly colored tent where all of her schoolmates were grinding to Rhianna and stomped across the sprawling golf course. Her heels sank into the damp earth, but she was beyond caring. The night had been a disaster. She had ridden to prom with a pack of not-very-close friends who only cared about getting drunk and been roped into holding a puking girl's hair in the bathroom within fifteen minutes of arriving at the venue. The cheap beer she had politely sipped in the limo had turned sour in her stomach, and the dance floor was too crowded and carnal to enjoy. In addition, the only interesting man she had attempted to strike up a conversation with had turned out to be her English teacher's fiancé on chaperone duty, which was humiliating beyond words. So far, senior prom was a wash.

Sarah sullenly ascended the stairs to the deck of the golf course clubhouse and picked up an ice water from the tired-looking physics teacher manning the bar. At least out here it was quiet, and there was a cool breeze. Sarah leaned against the deck railing and massaged her aching forehead. She didn't know what she expected. All that time shopping for a dress and rummaging through Karen's closet for just the right pair of shoes...She had been foolish to think that this would be some elegant evening filled with stimulating conversation, eligible bachelors, and dancing that was actually, well, dancing. She should have stayed home and studied for the SAT.

"But then," Sarah muttered to herself. "You would just be alone again. Like you always are."

It wasn't that Sarah didn't have friends. She was close to her castmates in the theatre department and the girls who sat with her at lunch. Sometimes she even saw them outside of school. But she had a hard time finding people to share with her in the things she really enjoyed, and she was haunted by the feeling that no one could ever really understand her at her deepest level. Especially not after what had happened to her when she was fourteen. That she could never share with anyone.

It didn't mean she didn't want to, though.

 _I wish I wasn't so alone_ , she thought wistfully.

An almost imperceptible breeze kissed her skin, and then a voice sounded behind her.

"Maybe I'm misunderstanding the occasion, but I believe standing off by one's self is not the custom as parties like this."

The hairs on the back of Sarah's neck prickled. It couldn't be. And yet…

"I beat you once before, I can do it again," She said.

"So aggressive," The voice replied, drawing nearer. "No one's contesting that fact, I assure you."

Someone sidled up next to her and leaned against the railing.

"Hello, Sarah," Jareth said.

She turned slowly to look at him, as though in a dream. He was dressed in a grey suit instead of the usual concoction of leather and lace and his hair was considerably more subdued despite still being long and layered, but it was Jareth alright, down to the crooked smile and spotless gloves.

"You smug bastard," Sarah murmured, more impressed than angry. "Of course you would hear that, of all things. Well. Welcome back to the mundane world. Nothing to see here, no babies to steal. You'd best get on back to where you came from."

"Why, when there's so much that needs mending here? My princess isn't enjoying her party. My entire world has stopped turning in outrage. Who do I have to cast into the bog of eternal stench to make the night go more smoothly for you?"

Sarah knew he was ribbing her, but she found herself biting back a smile. All these years, and she hadn't dreamed him. All these years and he was just as she remembered.

"No one, thank you. I haven't been wronged. This party is just...It's crowded and immature and I'd be better off at home studying. It's mostly lowerclassman here anyway."

"Oh Sarah," Jareth murmured, caressing her name in that sibilant fashion that had tied her fourteen-year old stomach in knots and was doing a pretty good number on her eighteen-year-old one. "My Sarah...Always rushing headlong into the adult world as though gritting your teeth and willing yourself two inches taller will make you a woman. Are you so determined to abandon all vestiges of your childhood, even now when they are faint and fading?

"I don't see what's so good about being a child," Sarah scoffed.

"The wonder, for one. The magic."

"Any magic worth having should only grow with the bearer, not dry up like the ending of a fairy tale."

Jareth threw his head back and laughed, all incisor teeth and self-assuredness. His wolfish laughter had frightened Sarah long ago, when she was rushing through an unfamiliar land towards a little brother she wasn't sure was still safe, but now the bright sound had a touch of delight blossoming in her chest.

"An answer for everything! But really Sarah; what do you call this dress?" He gestured with a gloved hand to her floor-length black gown, unadorned except for the fake diamonds clinging to the neckline and the swoop of the low back. "Are we too grown up for color too?"

"It's elegant," Sarah muttered, hiding her embarrassment with a quick sip of water. "Minimalism is in. Of course I wouldn't expect you to understand such a restrained concept."

"I understand you," Jareth said with that smug, catty smile. "And I understand that dress is very not you. Let me guess, you wanted to make a stand as a fetching and elegant young woman among all these candy-colored rhinestone-garbed trollops I see around me?"

"Keep your voice down," Sarah hissed as a pair of girls with heavily tanned skin and tropical print dresses walked by.

Jareth pressed his fingertips to his chest and widened his eyes in mock guilt. He had kept the makeup to a minimum, but Sarah spotted a sweep of iridescent white over his eyes, accentuated by an almost imperceptible line of lavender along his lashes.

"You be civil," She soldiered on, not letting the playful details distract her. "These girls are only having fun."

"And in your efforts to distinguish yourself from their common lot you aren't allowing yourself to have any," Jareth sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his glove. "What a pity."

"What other sort of fun is there to get into?" Sarah said, catching the innuendo in her voice with only faint surprise. She had been so young and panicked when she had met Jareth that the complicated muddle of emotions pointed in his directions had been hard to sort out, but there it was, the intrigue, the attraction, just like she thought she remembered.

Jareth's eyes glinted with delight.

"Oh, much and sundry. But firstly, let me do something about that drab shroud of a dress."

Sarah felt panic rise in her throat, but Jareth was already plucking off his gloves from the tips of the fingers as though publicly working magic was nothing to bat an eyelash at.

"Not here," Sarah sputtered. "The people! I-"

"Sarah, what sort of king would I be if I couldn't manage a shield over such a simply enchantment as this? Don't you trust me?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, things are more fun that way anyway. May I?"

He gestured to her dress with his bare hand. Sarah's throat felt dry.

"Well, I... I suppose so. But nothing garish! No puffed sleeves or princess skirts-"

"Yes, yes, you're too _mature_ for that. But don't you tell me that all that white tulle wasn't just what fourteen-year old Sarah wanted."

"Touche." Sarah set down her glass and squeezed her eyes shut. "Alright, goblin king. Do your worst."

Jareth's hand swept across Sarah's updo and tugged the silver comb out of her hair. It had taken the stylist an hour and fifty bobby pins to secure the style, but with the simple gesture Sarah's hair came tumbling down past her shoulders. She heard Jareth make a disappointed noise.

"What is it?"

"You cut your hair."

"So? People change, Jareth. Inside and out."

Suddenly there was silence, and Sarah didn't feel any magic happening (whatever that felt like), so she opened her eyes to find Jareth staring at her. Blue and brown, unblinking.

"Problem?" She asked.

"You used my name. That's the first time you've ever done that."

Sarah felt the color rising in her cheeks and promptly shut her eyes again.

"I can call you whatever I like, goblin king. Now make with the magic."

Jareth chuckled, then Sarah felt the tip of his finger run from her wrist up her forearm to her shoulder. Light fabric was suddenly tickling her shoulder where there had been no sleeves before, and her wrist was heavy with the weight of unfamiliar jewelry. Next there was a tug at her skirt, which suddenly became light and airy, and the sensation of fingers nimbly buttoning up tiny clasps on the nonexistent back of her dress.

"Begging your pardon," Jareth muttered, and smoothed his hands up either side of her waist, squeezing gently. When he took them away Sarah could still feel pressure, along with the ribbing of a corset. The last thing she felt was the heat of his thumbs ghosting over her lips and eyelids.

"Viola," Jareth said, and Sarah opened her eyes.

"Somehow I don't think all that touching was part of the spell," Sarah said with a sly smile.

"Pish posh," Jareth said, suddenly examining his fingernails very intently. "You know nothing of spellcraft."

Sarah smiled, turned to face herself in the mirrored finish of the bar, and gasped. She was dressed in layers of dove-grey and lavender chiffon, gathered to drape elegantly from her hip. A corseted bodice gave way to transparent slit sleeves, and when she twirled she could see the line of tiny buttons trailing from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Her eyelids were done up purple and grey, and the lips she had worn blood red in the beginning of the evening were nearly naked aside from the faintest shimmer.

"Do you like it?" Jareth asked, and Sarah thought she heard real nervousness in his voice.

"It's like something out of a dream…" She reached up to touch her dark hair, which had somehow curled itself into loose tendrils, and only then noticed the faint veins of silver woven though. "I thought I said nothing garish, Jareth."

Jareth shrugged. "Artistic license." He slid his glove back on and held out his hand to her. "Shall we dance?"

"You and I?" Sarah asked with a laugh.

"This is a ball, isn't it? Or some sort of rudimentary mating ritual for small humans? I can't really tell. But dancing seems to be involved."

Sarah burst out laughing, trying in vain to stifle her giggles by pressing her palm to her mouth. He was so genuinely oblivious. Why was that so endearing?

"Yes, goblin king, I think we shall. Lead the way."

Sarah was minorly concerned by the heads that turned as Jareth led her by the hand onto the dance floor, but truth be told, she hardly cared what they thought. Jareth was here. _Magic_ was here, and adventure was close behind. She could practically taste it on the wind, inflaming her blood and filling her spirit with a courage she hadn't felt for a very long time. She felt if that siren call chose to entice her away from this dance, from her entire world, she would take it, and surprisingly, that fact didn't frighten her. It felt like home.

Jareth, apparently not approving of the thrumming bass and jarring lyrics of the current song selection, snapped his fingers, and there was an electronic squal from the DJ booth followed by a much better selection, something slower and older. Sting, Sarah thought, or maybe Bowie. Jareth pulled her into his arms, cutting a formal figure among the teens who didn't know what to do with their hands. Sarah tried not to think about how lost she had felt wandering around that hazy ballroom four years ago, desperately trying to find the man she had been running towards for the last twelve hours so she wouldn't have to be alone. She tried not to remember how embarrassed she had been when he had smiled at her and she had realized that this was all a trick, that he didn't really care for her, that he only wanted to see her lose.

"I've got a few questions for you," Sarah blurted. "Things that have been bothering me ever since-"

"You are always permitted to speak freely around me Sarah, you need not ask."

"Oh. Well. Thank you." Sarah gnawed on her lower lip, and Jareth tilted his head to admire the pretty sight. "You're some kind of fey, is that right?"

"Such conclusions, my dear," Jareth chuckled. "You've been reading in your fairy books again. For all you know I could simply be a very adept wizard."

"No, not with those teeth and those eyes. Not with the way you carry yourself. And you change your clothes too much. Glamour makes it easy. A human would never go through the trouble."

"As sharp a mind as ever. Yes, my dear, I'm not of your species. We share a similar ancestry, but the genetics branch off far before your people took to keeping records. The baby-snatching runs in the blood, I'm afraid."

Sarah grinned, pleased with her small victory. She liked being pitted against him, and it was so much better now that she didn't have to worry about Toby. Now she could savor the challenge.

"You're a fey, and yet you're king over a realm populated with creatures unlike yourself, goblins mostly. It seems like stressful, thankless work, but somebody's got to do it. So my theory is-"

Her words got caught in her throat as Jareth dipped her unexpectedly, his hair tickling her neck.

"Your theory?" He asked.

"My theory," Sarah continued after she had caught her breath. "Is that you committed some sort of unpardonable offense against the other fey that got your slammed with goblin duty."

"An imaginative guess, I'll grant you that. But in truth, I am merely the fourth son of a father with a myriad of properties that need governing, and therefore am allocated the fourth most appealing kingdom. I'm still a prince among my own people with all the privileges thereof. As a matter of fact I was at a much better party than this when you rang for me. The fey keep open bars and spare no expense on the entertainment, as a general rule. "

"Well thank you for deigning to mingle with the common folk, my lord."

Jareth laughed, spinning Sarah round and round until she was giddy with dizziness.

"You are anything but common, my lady. Onto your third question."

Sarah met his eyes and didn't waver, even though it had always been so difficult for her not to look away from his sharp, knowing gaze.

"Why did you come back? I've made plenty of wishes before this and none of them ever conjured you. Not even when I wanted them to."

Jareth quirked a groomed blond eyebrow at her, then sighed.

"All those other times you wished for rain or the leading role or for Toby to make friends in school...I just couldn't appear under such a pretense. If I ever came when you called again I knew I would be vying for your favor, for something more than a professional request, and being wrong about that would only break my heart all over again. So I waited, and I listened. Hoped even. I waited for you to wish for _me_ , Sarah."

"I didn't wish for you," Sarah murmured, her voice suddenly soft and her eyes shimmering with tears. "I wished not to be alone."

"What kind of king would I be if I didn't know what you really meant?"

Sarah opened her mouth but no sound came out. They danced in silence a while more, Sarah twining her fingers into the plush material of his jacket, then she said,

"Last question."

"Tradition maintains that wishes and questions are to be kept to three."

"Call it a bonus round. Double or nothing."

"Go on."

"If I asked, right now...Would you take me away from all this?"

Jareth's eyebrow knitted together as though he were in pain.

"I have been at your service since the instant you first called me, since you were a beautiful, haughty, heartless child who could not fathom what such devotion meant, and I have never wavered. I do not intend to start now."

Sarah nodded and drank in the sight of Jareth wreathed in the yellow string lights that lined the tent until he broke her daze by saying,

"I believe it's my turn to pose a question."

"Be my guest," Sarah replied in her most magnanimous voice.

"Are you going to kiss me this time or are you going to go for the chair again? Because if it's the later I would like some warning so as to avoid the shards of mirror and wailing hellish winds. Cleaning up that ballroom was a nightmare."

"Maybe you should stop poisoning wandering children with stone fruit, then," Sarah said, but she was already leaning into him, and the next thing she knew he had tipped her chin up with a gloved hand and given her a very overdue kiss. Sarah slid her fingers into the wild thistledown hair she had never been able to forget and ignored the scattered whoops and catcalls from the crown around them. Jareth, surprisingly, broke away first.

"Honestly Sarah, this is horrible place for a romance. I don't understand the value of this "prom" as a social institution of young people, none of them are going to find an advantageous match in this environment."

"Oh, and are your parties so much better?" Sarah asked, her cheeks still flushed.

"Absolutely. They have to be experienced to be understood"

"Are you proposing a change of scenery?"

"You have your right words," Jareth said with a smirk. "The choice is in your hands."

Sarah took his face in her hands and kissed him again, pulling away seconds later to breathlessly whisper,

"Goblin king, goblin king, right where you should be, take these childish revels far away from me."

Jareth hooked his arms around Sarah's waist and laughed in joy. Around them, the wind started to pick up, and it brought with it the scent of peaches and freshly remembered dreams.


End file.
